Skinny Love
by moonsceptre
Summary: Real Gorillaz fans will love this. It's modern, it's witty, it's musical, it's rude and it has plenty of CrackerPot.
1. Paula

**Hello! This is a new story I'm doing, there'll be more chapters. It involves Paula so if you're a h4t3r!111!1!eleven! - then you can sod off. I was inspired by some of **_**firecat1996**_**'s artwork from DeviantArt, because I like the way she portrays Paula. Also, throughout the story I refer to her as 'ex-guitarist' rather than just 'guitarist'. Not because I'm saying she doesn't still play guitar or anything, but I thought you might get confused as Noodle is usually referred to as 'guitarist' D: **

_Demon Disclaimer:  
>I dont own anything except the initial story idea.<em>

* * *

><p><em>BLURGH<em>

A bucket load of orange, glitter infested vomit was released down the toilet.

_BLURGH_

Followed by a fit of coughs and whimpers, this could only mean one thing:

It was another day in the ex-guitarist's life.

"Tha's it, darlin', get it all out!" cried her rather rubbish looking mate who stood above, holding Paula's messy and sick-covered brunette locks in her orange sprayed hands. Paula leaned back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand - she was used to this, but she was getting tired of it. With a face of disgust and large lips pulled into a frustrated pout, she could not help but wish to be someone else right now. There was bloody work tomorrow and she was out clubbing with a load of stoners and piss heads! Jesus Christ, what had life come to!

Well, actually... this pretty much was life recently. It wasn't good to be throwing up her stomach, though, due to her medication now joining the toilet bowl's contents. She'd told the publishers of Rise of the Ogre that she was not on any medication, but c'mon, Murdoc stole her sodding bag after she got the boot, 'course he knew!

Life just wasn't what it used to be these past - 10 years? - it must be... around that time, anyway. It wasn't the same. It was dull and boring like it had been when she was a silly teenage girl spending her days out with older men; smoking terribly made roll ups, getting into fights, trying a bit of 'puff' (weed) and just generally disobeying her single, useless mother. Of course the only difference now was that she was allowed to do a lot of that. It was definitely her dad's fault. Definitely. Bastard. Walked out on her and her mum.

...

Cunt.

...

"Oi!" Paula squeaked when she noticed her you've-been-tango'd 'friend' pinching her purse. She snatched it from the other ditzy woman's grubby hands, scraping her wrist on a set of false nails while she was at it. "Touch my bloody things, why don't you! Jog on, love."

"Core, wot's got your knickers in a twist, 'en? Just tryin' ta get yer meds! 'Cos you obviously ain't had them, have you, you trollop!"

Paula genuinely felt bad now. It was true, she needed to get home and get some sleep. No more days off work...

"I'm sorry, Mel. Just haven't been myself for a while now. Dunno why!"

Her friend - Mel, though sometimes nicknamed Smelly Melly - gave a giggle. It wasn't only Paula herself who'd noticed these not-so recent changes about Paula's personality. She used to be very youthful and spontaneous, but at the same time, cool, calm and collected with just a dash of fire to spark her sexuality. Now she was aggressive and depressive. It couldn't have just been age.

"Hah, Paulie-babe, I been noticin' this for a while, innit? Oi oi, remember when we wos just little bitches in school, nickin' 'em fags and booze from the pound shop!"

The girls laughed together at the memory. It was a bit inappropriate and a tad disgusting. But it was how they grew up on the rough streets of Sussex.

"Yeah, hahah! Core, bunking off then flashing to Mr. Joyner like there was no tomorrow."

The connection of nostalgia was short-lived between these two rather stupid girls due to a large thump from the outside of the public toilet's door. They also noted that the club's music had actually faded quite a while ago. Then came a booming voice, followed by more hard, angry thumps.

"OI! OOEVER'S IN THERE, GET OU'! CLUB'S CLOSED HOURS AGO."

A sick, slimey voice chirped up after that;

"Yer cleanin' up the sick, as well, innit! Heh."

Paula and Mel gave the toilet bowl a look, then stared at each other. As if they could read minds, the girls burst into laughter; simultaneously blurting out a tired-

"Fuck that."

Quickly they scurried to their feet, which was difficult on both parts because of said drunkness and, well, they were in heels. That night consisted of the girls crawling out the backed up bathroom window, though it was a tight squeeze on their large bums, which they blamed on the way home to be 'dat fackin tiny winda'. Mel said her goodbyes once they arrived at the bus stop, hopping on the 96 to her own home; Paula owned a small flat just round the corner from the bus stop, guarded by a large metal fence that had been left open once again.

Finally stepping into her block of flats, the ex-guitarist pulled out her key and entered the small home. She was definitely one to keep things sanitary in comparison with her messy life, but she took no notice of the dishes and cups piled up in the sink as she passed the kitchen. Her tired, aching legs dragged the womanly body to the bedroom - collapsing on the double bed almost instantly.

* * *

><p>It seemed like she'd been sleeping for a couple minutes when the alarm clock woke her up, the loud beeping causing a terrible headache to surface. Never. Drinking. Again. This was by far one of the worst hangovers she'd had in a long time, her head spinning, nausea, dizziness and not to mention her appearance -<p>

"HOLY SHIT."

The mirror across from her bed reflected Paula's taken back stare as she fell over slightly, gripping the bed knobs to keep her steady. Black eye make-up smeared down her cheeks, red lipstick smudged beyond recognition. _Yurgh_.

Slowly, to avoid any more pain, the ex-guitarist fumbled her way to the wardrobe, pulling out a few selections of clothes before striding over to her small bathroom. Rinsing her face of all the make-up she soon realised absolutely nothing (no matter how much concealer she applied) was going to get rid of those bags under her eyes. It was unsightly and ungainly to have to go out in public like it, but she'd worn worse on bad days. After giving herself a wash down, making sure she felt decently feminine and pulling on her clothes - though she did not have time to wash and dry her hair, giving it that usual greesey slick look - Paula pulled out a pair of sunglasses, propping them upon her face to hide away the eyes of shame. Stepped into her shoes, applied a bit of lippy and some cheap perfume then off she went to work.

She'd been working at the local hairdresser's for a few years now, it was better than any other job she'd at, and it was especially better than living off the doll in her mum's house. She couldn't really stand her mum any more, not since she'd gone loopier than herself after dad left.

The walk up to work took under 10 minutes - she only lived up the road from it, but the travel itself felt like something along the lines of climbing a mountain. Paula held her handbag tightly, clutching it to her stomach to suppress the sickness she was feeling. It was weirdly warm for early March; still a bit chilly, but too humid for a coat to be worn. Stepping into the hairdressers was a relief: the air conditioning was on. Lovely. Her body untensed as the cool air soothed her aching body, her eyes sensationally rolling underneath the dark shades of her sunglasses. Getting a few odd stares to be wearing them inside, but her appearance must've made her look a bit rough - putting those off who dare ask Miss Cracker why she wouldn't remove them.

"Ooh, 'ello," called her manager as waltzed over to the ex-guitarist. "Late today? You're lucky the bloke 'oo wants his hair done is late coming in!"

"Sorry, May. Had a shit night." Paula proceeded then to take off her glasses. May - her manager - gasped at the sight. Bags as purple as a plumb, sagging underneath two puppy dog brown eyes.

"You off your rocker, Miss Cracker? Look at them shiners! Who hit you!"

"No one. I just didn't get enough sleep... feel like rubbish, I tell you."

Her left eyebrow raised.

"Sure you don't want the day off?" asked May.

"Oh, no no no! I promise I'll be fine." Paula replied, managing a half-smile.

"...Alright, then. Off you go!"

With that, Paula picked up her things and made her way to the back of the room to join another woman who was sweeping some hair off the floor. She had an appointment with a lad from London; hopefully he was a nice chap, she'd had too many pricks coming in and thinking they could rub one off on her. Revenge was always the best for them - cut their hair just a little bit shorter than they wanted it, or shave something like 'twat' on the back of his head. Funny she'd never got caught...

The girl sweeping dusted off a chair for Paula to sit on. She gave the cleaner a nod to say 'thanks' then shoved herself down, pushing her bag underneath the seat; a good rest before her customer arrived. It was still pretty early so they weren't getting a lot of customers at this time.

"Oi,"

Paula looked up from the magazine she'd began reading. "Yeah?"

It was the cleaning lady, a trail of gossip clearly about to spill from the young girl's pink lips. Her eyes were bright with excitement. "You heard who's coming in today?"

"Erm... who?"

The cleaner grinned, resting her hands and chin on the top of the broom stick. "Someone famous! This barmy from London - he's in a band, as well! Lead singer!"

"You're joking," Paula put down the mag, looking up in amusement.

"I'm not. Heard it off one o' them managers chatting away about it on the phone - they're all well excited! I am, too. Might ask the giffer if 'e needs a bird in 'is life."

_Poor bloke_, thought Paula. _Last thing he probably needs is a young, naive failure._

"So, what band's he from then? What's his name, yeah?"

The cleaner shrugged. "Dunno. Wonder who'll be doing 'is 'air, though..."

"Well, whoever it is - I'll be jealous of the lucky prat, eh." The ex-guitarist picked up the magazine, her eyes darting downwards as she continued reading.

"What you two gossiping about, then?"

Paula raised her darkened eyes once again to see her manager, May; eyes filled with curiosity. The cleaner thankfully answered for them, her youthful excitement filling Paula's over-30-year-old body with pure envy. She shrugged it off.

"That singer that's meant to be coming down to get 'is 'air cut or summit! May, woss 'is name then, aye?"

"Sorry, love, why would I tell you? He's 'ere anyway, Paula get yer arse up."

Her head snapped up. _What!_

"Me?"

"...Her?"

"Yes, you. G'won. And you," she looked at the cleaner. "You drive that boy away from here with your slutty actions and you can say goodbye to sweeping the floors, babe."

The manager gave Paula a look as if to say 'hurry the fuck up', then left for the staff room to calm herself with a nice, hot coffee. The cleaner followed eagerly, not wanting to lose _this _job. It was truly the only one she'd ever really get with such awful GCSE marks. It would've been the old guitarist's job - had she not decided to pick up her pace college-wise.

Miss Cracker placed the magazine on top of her handbag under the chair, lifting herself up. The sickness had eased quite a lot by now and she was feeling a tad numb. Something to eat or drink later on would probably help, but at the moment she was slightly eager to know whose hair she was cutting... Striding along the half-silent floors - partially due to the lack of customers but at the same time The Bangles' Manic Monday was playing from above - her heels clicked along the floor as she edged closer to the manager's desk.

There was a figure stood, his back to her. But she already knew what band this singer was from, just by the look of that azure, spikey hair... her heart pounded, a little swollen and confused. It felt as though her face was about to explode when he turned around - black eyes widening in dazed shock.

_Gorillaz._

"_Paula_!"


	2. 2D

**Here's the second chappy! I've noticed something kinda cool. Perhaps it's just my theory, but Phase 1 Paula and 2D look like, well, Clint Eastwood' 2-D and that image of Gorilla's Paula. In Rise of the Ogre - that's Phase 2, isn't it! So... that could be why Paula's hair changes. Because her and 2D stayed friends (with benefits xD) up until that time. Cool, eh?**

* * *

><p>"Merrrhhh..."<p>

Groaned a pale, sleeping figure. It tossed and turned over to one side, the thick quilt flopping over one side of the bed and hitting it with a THUMP. The cold air was now able to attack the exposed body of Stuart Pot, his lack of bodily hair sticking up on its ends as goosebumps began to appear. Murdoc was probably waking up around the same time, so he most likely hadn't been able to switch the heating on - either that or he just genuinely knew 2D would be freezing his arse off. Noodle surely would be awake by now, though. Wait. Depended on the time...

His blackened eyes opened largely at the sight of the alarm clock by his bed side table - 08:00 a.m. With a grumble and a prick of agitation from his 'morning surprise' (MORNING BONER, KIDDIES) 2D managed himself out of the confinds of his warm bed, stumbling over to the bathroom to release his bladder.

"_I WAS WORKING AS A WAITRESS IN A COCKTAIL BAR~..._"

His voice was scratchy from the dryness, but the vocalist couldn't care less. Nothing better than busting out some Human League in the early hours of the morning to wake you up. After the liquid evacuated his body, 2D gave a shake or two and - not bothering to wash his hands - exited the bathroom to get dressed.

. . .

"Good morning, 2D."

The frontman was just making his way downstairs when he noticed a diminutive girl passing, two empty bowls in her hands. It was a very silent morning, he had to admit; weird for the Gorillaz' household. It was most likely due to Murdoc not actually being awake yet, though. Noodle had definitely started cleaning. He could tell because of the strong smell of Febreeze wafting itself around the stuffy house.

The guitarist stopped in her tracks then, still holding the two empty white bowls. Her eyes were no longer covered by bright purple bangs, but chopped into Visual Kei slices of a deep, mauve blue. Her new jade eyes darted to the vocalist quickly, 2D jumped as though she had just pointed a gun at him.

"Wot?" he pressed.

Noodle raised an eyebrow then smiled thoughtfully. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Aye? Oh oh oh! Mornin', Noodle."

"No, not that. What were you meant to do today, 2-D?"

This made the frontman think, good and hard. _What was I meant to do today? _Curse his damaged brain, there was definitely something important - other wise he would not have set his alarm clock for eight in the morning the previous night. He stood there like a dreamy dullard for a few minutes, large bony hand gripped to the banister to keep him steady on the staircase. Noodle seemed perfectly patient, her face still thoughtful as she waited upon him.

Then it hit him like a sack o' potatoes.

"SHIT, I'M GETTING ME 'AIR CUT TODAY!"

Noodle didn't say anything else, she kindly carried on her trip to the kitchen in order to clean up the mess her boys had made. 2D on the other hand grabbed his out-grown locks stressfully, running back up the stairs to put on his shoes.

Skidding past Murdoc's bedroom door he gasped loudly, slamming himself against the wall, hands covering his mouth. _Shhhh... _If Murdoc's still sleeping, the last thing he'd want waking him up was 2D. So, the singer quietly exhaled his panic-ridden air, tip toe-ing back to the staircase as he climbed back to his bedroom. The house was 4 stories tall including the small attic, but they couldn't refuse it when Jamie Hewlett himself had given his own house up for them. Murdoc wasn't too worried about that, though. He mainly just needed a 'secret hide out' from those bleeding assassins and shit!

The frontman scrambled up the stairs, passed his bathroom and into a pile of clothes. This? No. That? No. _Awright_! He pulled on a pair of shoes (not Gorillaz Converse. How tacky!), slipped on a jacket considering it was still sort of Winter, then legged it back down the stairs, however forgetting about Murdoc, 2D carried on his elephant strides as he rushed to get to his appointment. His lanky leg caught on the bassist's chair lift (the rest of the band still wondered why Murdoc would be so lazy to use such a thing instead of walking a few steps) and he tumbled down the stairs like a ragdoll - each step he hit there was a 'OOH' 'OW' 'AH' 'FUCK' until he hit rock bottom. Literally.

"WHAT IN SATAN'S NAME IS MAKING ALL THAT SODDING NOISE!"

A door slammed open.

2D would usually cower at this point and flee for the door or shelter, but his head was somewhere trapped between his legs and a deck chair... which is still a mystery today as to why exactly it was there. He groaned painfully, untwisting himself from the clumsy mess he got himelf into. His head was all over the place - seeing double! As he turned his solid head around, there seemed to be a figure at the top of the stairs... well, actually, two. No, one. Erm... no, two... The figures kept focuing and unfocusing until 2D's dents stopped rattling about his brain and realised the green man that stand atop the stairs, fists clenched angrily, teeth bared.

He'd awoken the beast.

Well, Murdoc.

...

Suddenly, the vocalist was picked up by the scruff of his neck, arms and legs scraggling everywhere. He pleaded like a kitten, eyes watering.

"I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY, I DIDN'T MEAN TO WAKE YEW."

Murdoc's bloodshot eyes stared down angrily at the singer's pathetic pleads, his right eye twitched as his clawed fingers released the back of 2D's shirt, dropping him to the floor. 2D scrambled to his feet like a fool, his lanky frame standing tall. Despite being 6'2" he never ever was a match for Murdoc's average 5'7", and this always did bother the vocalist's self-esteem. He was tired of this horrible bullying - every ruddy day, it was. What was the point of staying in this dysfunctional family if it wasn't even loving?

And Murdoc upset Noodle.

And Noodle was still a young girl, she needed her brothers.

And Russel was still a giant...

And Murdoc was a dick.

Is a dick.

Dang flabbit.

2D mentally face palmed. Sod all this, he needed to get going.

"Why all the noise, then?"

"Wot?"

Murdoc growled. "WHY ALL THE _F*CKING_ NOISE! I was having a rather pleasant dream..."

"Oh... I said I wos sorry. Just late for me 'aircut appointment fing." 2D answered, his eye lids shutting sleepily.

"Your... haircut. Appointment. _Fing_," confirmed the bassist, growing more and more frustrated at the singer by the second. He slapped his green hand against his also-tired face, dragging it down lazily. "You're a complete idiot."

Much to 2D's luck, Murdoc walked away with that, heading off to the kitchen - probably to gander at a page 3 bird in the papers or complain to Noodle about how all the retards on the radio aren't paid enough to spew crap into our unfortunate ears. Actually, judging from the obvious sound of Noodle's frustrated sigh from the other room, the second was more likely. The singer blinked, still stood there dumbfounded for a few seconds more before he exhaled briefly, exiting the door. Once he shut the 212 door behind him there was a slight moment of sadness that washed over him. He shook it off coldly, striding his long, skinny legs over to the car (_Stylo, bitchez_).

* * *

><p>"He's late!"<p>

"I know, but you can't 'ave a go at 'him, can ya!"

"Yeah yeah, bloody wealthy prick."

"Awh, don't, May. I've 'eard he's a nice boy."

May squinted her bagged and aged eyes at the other worker in the hairdressers. Neither of them were even remotely aware that this famous chap - Stuart Pot, lead singer of Gorillaz - was connected to a certain one of their customers. Perhaps it was fate that they decided she would cut his hair. It sort of went along the lines of something simple, really...

_"We can't let that bent gaffer 'ave a chop at 'im, he'll never come back," said May, referring to one of their homosexual stylists._

_The other worker scratched her chin, looking to the corner of her eye in an over done thinking motion. "Can't trust a lot of these girls, May. Aye, wot 'bout Cracker? She's a bit of a moody cow, won't bother with the flirting I don't fink,"_

_"Actually," May brightened. "Tha's not a bad idea, my girl. Only downfall is that she's a bit of a boring ol' silly moo."_

* * *

><p>When 2D arrived at the stylists he was half-expecting a lot of fans to barge into him and pester for autographs and hugs and urhrrvnbvksdjdslkvkjvdsksk under-age girls, it was all so tempting. But at the same time it was quite a relief he'd made it so early, sometimes it was peaceful this hour. He walked into the door - yes, the door. After recovering from the embarrassment, 2D was lucky that no one actually; rubbing his nose, the vocalist stepped over to the front counter where a woman with grey-ish blonde hair stood, writing something down with her long pink fingernails (which reminded the singer a lot of Murdoc, even the way she asserted herself did). Her name tag read 'May Weathers'.<p>

"Er...'scuse me, love?" 2D attempted to ask.

She looked up from her stack of papers, two green sagged eyes widening in a mix of surprise and a falsity of early smitten. "Ooh, hello, hello! What a handsome boy, 'en. You must be Mr. Pot?"

"Jus' 2D, actually," he smiled thoughtfully.

"Ah, right right. Well, we're very glad to have you here, m'dear."

They shook hands.

"So," May began again. "I'll go get things sorted, no need to sit - she'll be here in a bit to make you comfortable. Just let 'er know what you want, yeah?"

The vocalist nodded politely as she clopped off to fetch his hairdresser. Hopefully she was a nice bird, he hadn't much luck with girls recently. It wasn't just the fact he was as miserable as a damp rag now and then, but also the fact Murdoc would also sleep with every girl he'd bring in the house after he was finished with her. That sounded horrible, though. 'Finished with her'. He didn't like the person he'd become, he wanted to get away from all this - find someone who was going to love him. Just can't stand the loneliness any more.

The azure-haired man stood there for a couple minutes, his back to the counter top. It was quite empty in the salon, but he could hear slow, wary footsteps coming from behind. Almost as if they were quite hesitant... It must've been his hairdresser, for all he knew she could've been a big Gorillaz fan.

Turning around, he got the shock of his life.

...

Sleepy brown eyes with that familiar femme fatale glare, cute little nose he'd always poked at her about; those big, kissable Angelina Jolie lips she never liked. Her hair was different now - breast length, still dark brown like it had been on the day they first met and the last day he ever saw her.

"_Paula!_"


	3. Chapter 3

**If I say I want you to listen to a song while reading a chapter -  
><strong>**You bloody well WILL!**

* * *

><p>The pair just stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, both stood awkwardly, eyes wide and mouths scarcely agape. Paula blinked, 2D mimicked.<p>

"So..."

"Awkward."

"...Ch'yeah." The vocalist scratched the back of his blue head, fidgeting slightly. He regained his posture then scooted a little closer to the desk where Paula stood, hands by her side and an almost melancholy expression painted on her face. "...'Ow's life treatin' yew, then?"

"It's been all right," the guitarist gave a thoughtful smile, her eye expression turning slightly wistful. "And you?"

"Been awright, as well. Not the best lately, but it'll prob'ly get better," 2D gave his famously short, nerdy laugh. It twung at the girl's heartstrings a little bit - just a little bit..

"Why's it not been good lately?"

"Ehh... Murdoc, fings with the band, personal feelings, fings like that..."

"Ah, that bastard. That's a shame, though, I was really glad you were happy." This wasn't a lie.

"Awh, aha... Erm, we could a'ways go for a drink some time, yeah? If yew'd like that, I mean."

Paula smiled wider now, her body still stiff as a board. "Yeah. I would like that."

The frontman smiled back, his gappy teeth making the ex-band member giggle as she noticed his gold tooth.

"So," Paula began. "I'll probably get the sack if I don't get to cutting your hair, hun."

"Oh, yeh... Sorry about that, love."

"No worries! Come on,"

The musicians made their way over to a swingy chair, which 2D naturally found amusement out of by swinging in circles while Paula set up the equipment. Mid-swinging session, the ex-guitarist grabbed the chair, pulling it back so that 2-D stared up into a pair of forgotten chestnut eyes. The memories fell from them, down, into his black eyes, drowning his brain with a lonely feeling.

Paula blinked, sharing the same feeling.

It was even more awkward due to the radio playing _Penguin _by _Christina Perri. _Fortunately, the song changed over to a better song, more up-beat song. The frontman sniffed, turning his head to the left slightly. Paula straightened up, exhaling all the tension from that moment of bliss, then turned on the taps, tipping her ex-boyfriend's blue locks into the sink until the azure was soaked. She added shampoo, conditioner, and could easily tell the vocalist was enjoying it very much, which gave her a big smirk. He obviously hadn't had a lot of intimate contact with anyone for a long time, then again, neither had she...

"Heard your new song out, I really like it," she spoke sweetly, a little nervous about sounding fake or genuine. It was genuine, though.

"Yeh, I fink iss really good as well, Paul! I mean, me and Murdoc nicked a bit of it, but I did the vocals so, y'know..."

Her mind lingered when he called her 'Paul'. His happy tone always made her giddy.

"Do Ya Thing, isn't it? Your singing's lovely as ever,"

"Fanks. We're doin' the music video in a couple days, thass why I'm getting me 'aircut finally!"

"Well, I promise to do a good job!" she giggled, snipping away at his over-grown layers.

* * *

><p>"Look at 'er, knew she'd be just as bad as the others. F*ckin' flirting. I swear, these girls all came from the slums they did, they must 'ave!"<p>

"Oh, shut up, 'e looks 'appy, that's all that matters. 'E'll give a good rep. for us, that means..."

May and the other employee looked over at the pair from behind the glass door of the room with the coffee machine in (they hadn't named it yet, and it wasn't a relaxtion room nor was it a lounge considering there was more drama in there than there was in the shop itself). Paula and 2-D were laughing happily, beautiful smiles on their faces as they spoke to each other in chilled out voices, almost as if they'd known each other for years.

* * *

><p>"There, now we'll dry and hope for the best that I did you justice,"<p>

"Awright,"

...

"So... what do you think?"

2-D looked in the mirror at his silky, dried hair (**A/N: **It looks like it does in the Do Ya Thing video D:). He thoughtfully smiled, then nodded in approval. "I like it!"

Paula sighed, releaved, and gave her hands a clap. "Phew." Good review, hopefully.

Which meant extra pay.

Boo-ya.

"I awready paid for the appointment earlier, so... whenever yer shift's over, we can go for a drink or summfink, yeah?" He gave her a wink.

That was odd.

Fame must've boosted up his confidence a bit more than she'd expected.

"Can't pull the old number in the note then, can you?"

"Oi, tha' wos yew 'oo started that!"

"Worked, though."

He laughed. "...Yeh... heh. Well, I could jus' ask yer boss person if she'd let yew take a day off wiv me. I-If you want that,"

She loved the way he'd always make sure she was okay with going about something, it reminded her of the way he was before Gorillaz. Before _Gorilla, _even.

"I'd actually love that, Stu!"

The frontman bit his lip with his remaining teeth - which, of course, was to great difficulty. _Stu... _No one had called him that in a long time, excluding his mum and dad - whom were the first people he went to visit once Gorillaz evacuated Plastic sodding Beach!

Yeh..." he smiled sadly, walking over to the desk where May stood. A terrible case of nostalgia had just washed over the ex-lovers.

"Hello, Mr. Pot! Lovely haircut, we chose the best for you!" she gestured to Paula.

"Er, just 2-D. I wos wondering if yew could let this lovely lady off fer today."

"Oh?" her smiled faded. "Why's that, Mr. 2D?"

"I get well lonely!" he blew up all of a sudden. "Would be nice 'aving a mate that wouldn't smash me 'ead against the wall, yeah?"

"Oh, oh! Of course. Of course, Mr. 2D... Uh, Paula, you can have the day off, love."

"Um," she looked around hesitantly. "Thanks!" she kept her eyes fixed on May, her crooked teeth formed into a forced smile, when stab of extreme shock pierced through her. 2D had slid his arm around her waist.

She stood there for a little while, eyes sort of staring at nothing - like 2D's were when she first met him. She was a bit stiff against his body, which was considerably more muscular than it had ever been before, but he was very soft and comfy as she leaned against him slightly, waiting for him and her manager to finish their conversation. Even the walk with him to the pub was awkward (but it would've taken a zombie apocalypse for her to have wanted to move), all the while 2D didn't unhook his arm from her hips.

It was one of those tender, take-my-breath-away days...


	4. Chapter 4

**Mr. Lonely. I apologise for the wait. Lol I always seem to update when I'm having gay love issues. Gay gay gay. I hate feelings, it'd be awesome to be a robot or something idk**

* * *

><p>"Where you living now, then?"<p>

"A flat in Welling, only a little walk away from work."

"Like it?"

"Yeah!"

The ex-band member looked down, her right cheek resting on her hand. 2D watched her. He had carelessly linked his arm around this girl's waist, thinking she was just another female to woo into bed - all without thinking. He mentally punched himself.

_You're good at that. Not thinking. Urgh._

If she were any other girl, there would be no problem. But there was a problem. And that problem was the fact that this was Paula Cracker, his first actual girlfriend that wasn't either a silly teenage week relationship or rebound from the last stupid slut. Even though his opinion on her had changed remarkably since the incident with Murdoc, it was a great battle with emotions to even consider hating her. Don't get him wrong, poor 2D had had this done many times before; it was always a struggle to not forgive them. Not even to do with lack of self-confidence - he just wasn't the 'I'm going to hold a grudge on you' type of guy. Not even with Murdoc sometimes, sadly.

And here she was. His old girl Paula.

Cute brown eyes. Aw.

Massive lips... they were always good for something.

It wasn't like she was anything special. He'd been dating her for almost 4 years before that dreadful day he brought her to Kong; regret filling his damaged brain. She'd stuck with him even after that blasted bass player destroyed his face, too. God knows why, he'd wondered.

She also made him feel very... at ease? Himself. Like he didn't have to put up an act of tiring strength in order for her to like him. Her essence was of pure compassion, and that's something he'd always loved about her in the first place. She was misunderstood, and worried about other people too much. Damaged and deserving, there she sat in front of him on the pub's stool, legs crossed, skinny waist sat up straight. The long pause and blank expression didn't need to be explained, Paula was all too familiar with that...

"Explain to me what's happening between _Gorillaz _then." Her large, red lips emphasised the band's name with bitterness.

"Er... nofink really. New so-..."

"Not like that. I mean, why're you so down all of a sudden? You look _really _unhappy, to be completely honest. Look at the bags under your eyes as well, Mr Lonely," she giggled. He smiled. "Has something happened? I heard about all the Plastic Beach fiasco... considered therapy, anything like that?"

"Paula," straight away he'd replied. "I'm just not happy." The pale complexion of the vocalist then turned into a heartbreaking, sad smile as his blackened eyes looked down at the floor.

The ex-guitarist's brow creased in concern and worry, her eyes becoming watery. It was a sad sight to see a talented man become overwhelmed with a dark wave of depression. Except this wave was lingering, and it had clearly gotten worse since his times before Gorilla. Something she'd always loved about Stu-Pot - the way he was naturally so melancholy and soothing, in a pitying way; he never complained once, always the optimist on-going life's riddles and difficult tasks, but it had got too much by this point, surely. Then again, everyone needs a friend to help them pull through the darkest of times.

The vocalist pulled a headache tablet from his pocket, downing it with a beer. Afterwards the pair decided to change the subject, and spent the rest of the day in the pub, explaining old times, recent events, the mutual dislike for Mr. Niccals, always avoiding the subject of any kind of sadness or possibility of depression. More so, this was 2D doing so, as Paula tried her very best to re-surface the subject in hopes of helping her old lanky friend.

_Friend._

Sounded strange to her.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me?"<p>

The musicians looked up suddenly, a girl with curly ginger hair, bad skin, and beautiful glowing eyes stood before them. She looked rather eager.

"Are you 2D of Gorillaz!" she smirked, a set of goofy teeth poking out of her pink lips.

"I am, yeah,"

"Wow!" she squeeled, a posh British accent. "You are _really _good looking in person. Can you sign my chest, then!"

Paula's head shot up.

2D's eyes widened.

He was accustomed to the silly compliment here and there, but how old was this girl? He turned to the ex band mate; her head shot down again quickly, fiddling awkwardly with her guitarist-dry thumbs.

"Well!"

"Erm... 'ow old are you?"

"16, but don't worry, I'm with friends!" she smirked, her chest tilting down to reveal jailbait.

It gave the vocalist a minute of achy blinks to program all the information through his head. With a sigh, he stood up from the pub stool, towering tall over the girls.

"Sorry, love, 'bout to leave, we were," with that, 2D threw a few quid onto the table for their drinks, stuck his hands into his jacket pockets, then left the pub. Paula had quickly paced herself behind, slightly irritated by his strange outburst of rudeness, though it was very out of character for him, 2D was well known for the eccentricity and mood swings every now and then.

"Oi, you..." she began calmly. The night air was cool and crisp, though the clouds began to form in the sky, tense and unsuspecting. Much like the mood. "What was that all about?"

He turned to face her, his mood diminishing to the submissive Stuart Pot.

"Wot?"

"Well, was a bit rude, don't you think?"

"Just wosn't in the mood... sorry."

"I'm not the one you should apologise to, but never mind." Paula smiled, hoping to re-heat the conversation.

"I just feel really rubbish, Paul... sorta lost," 2D stared out past the ex band mate, looking into the distance with a painful expression painted on his bruised up face. Just as Paula inched closer to speak, a few drops of water fell down from the sky, making her shiver. The rain came down harder, followed by a flash of lightning.

The musicians stayed oddly calm underneath the storm, Paula wrapping her arms around her shoulders for warmth and 2D just...standing there.

Finally, the ex-guitarist could take no more.

"Stu-Pot!"

His ears pricked. Suddenly he was not in his own dream world; no bloopy noises, no aliens, no bright colours. Instead, there they stand soaking wet, pretty much looking like drowned rats.

"Stu-Pot?"

"Ugh!" Paula rolled her eyes, gripping his arm and tugging them both underneath a canopy next to the pub. They were in the shadows now, but the cramped space held extra warmth. "Right, I'm not saying it's your fault but... well... yeah, it is. Get your head into reality for a second; do you honestly think being around that bastar, so-called leader is doing you any good?"

He shook his head.

"Well, then," she shrugged, her hands slapping back down to her thighs. "Take a break. Please. I think you need it."

The ex band mate shut her eye shadow smeared lids, but quickly opened them once she realised she had been pulled into a tight embrace. Stiff, warm and smelt of butterscotch, she nestled herself into him, wrapping their arms around each other as she backed up against the cold wall of the pub. Muffled against her strawberry bubble bath smelling hair, 2D asked:

"Fancy coming back to mine?"


	5. Chapter 5

**I drank too much Relentless and I need a wee.**

* * *

><p>The walk back to 2D's was cold, wet, and most of all - tense.<p>

The darkened sky poured down sharp needles of rain onto the two musicians, who were power walking their way down Wobbly St.; the keyboardist's arm around the former band member's curvy waist, holding them close together, joined by the hip even; 2D had taken off his leather jacket and tranformed the item of clothing into a spread umbrella for the both of them.

"Nearly there?"

"Number 212...'ere,"

The musicians climbed up to the door, soaking through and through (_and then you handed me a towel, and all I see is you~_) when 2D realised something very unfortunate:

He didn't own a house key.

Or did he...

And he'd just forgotten it?

These are the questions that haunt Stuart Pot.

A pale, bony fist knocked upon the door. Seconds flew past, the pair standing (now that 2D had removed his arm) frozen as the strong wind blew ice water up their backs, sending a chill down the spine. To their surprise (and luck) Noodle opened the door. Luck, or not? If next to 2D stood any other woman - and this thought seemed to be brought up in their minds quite a lot today - Noodle wouldn't have took a second glance from underneather her choppy bangs; she would have moved aside and allowed her older brother and his 'choice for tonight' come inside and dry themselves off, then swiftly make their way to the bedroom. But, no. This wasn't just any particular female standing before the Japanese girl, looking small and drowned, like a kitten in a storm. This was the infamous Paula Cracker she'd heard and seen so much about.

The eye contact between the two guitarists enitiated immediately, two honest emeralds piercing their youthful strength up into the ferocious puppy dog hues of the rival musician. Noodle didn't _dis_like her, but she sure as Hell didn't like her, either, and wasn't going to allow this without consent from another male figure in the household, or a descriptive explanation from the blue-nette. Though, the latter was definitely too much to ask for.

It wasn't that she was afraid she would be taking her place in the band - of course not, that'd be ridiculous. And it did feel childish tattling on poor 2D to Russel and/or Murdoc - whoever was awake to hear of it; she didn't want to cause him harm, but it wasn't exactly unnerving knowing someone who talked - and probably still does - shit about you is coming back after around 10 years or so, out of the bue and uninvited.

She kept her squinted eyes steady on the pair, as her small frame moved aside from the door, re-placing the doormat with a suave karate kick just as they stepped inside, shutting the door behind them.

"Fanks, Noodle. Yew're up late," spoke 2D quietly for fear of waking an angry band member. He shook his soggy blue locks about, re-positioning them into the lovely haircut he'd received earlier. Paula kept quiet, biting her inner lip at the sight of Gorillaz' newest guitarist.

Noodle turned to face her band brother, eyes softening into smiliness. "I was just on my way to bed. I am quite, ah... shocked to see this sight before me. Let me consult peacefully with Russ-..."

"WHO IS IT THIS TIME, NOOD! IS THAT THE DULLARD WHO'S HOME?" came a booming, croaky voice from above the stairs.

"Oh," said Noodle in her naturally calm manner. "Too late, I suppose."

Two cuban heeled boots, spurs and all, clicked their way to the top of the staircase as the 3 other musicians made their way further into the spacious (but messy!) house. Noodle was calm, expecting the every day shouts and screams or if they were lucky, Murdoc was too drunk and would fall down the steps then and there. 2D gulped, expecting the worst. Paula was still quiet, though her lip biting had increased, and one overly plucked eyebrow was raised, realising who this fool with a bottle of rum in one hand was. She could've guessed from the boots, the green skin, 2D's terrified reaction, or even that sickly dark voice that had woo'd her unstable, young and naive mind all those years ago.

She inwardly laughed, looking forward to his reaction.

Murdoc tipsily made his way down the stairs, forgetting about his trusty stair lift to the side. The inverted cross around his neck jangled about over a greasy, green hairy chest, in the same motion that the rum in the bottle he carried did so.

"Oi," he slurred. "That... that dullard, thennnnoodle?" His eyes were deeply bagged and blood shot, focusing back and forth between Noodle and 2D, a mix of emotions were bubbling beneath his serpent skin. He hadn't noticed a certain lady on the other side of the hall, arms crossed with a scowl painted on her face.

When no one answered, the drunken Satanist's hidden brow furrowed beneath the thick black mop ontop of his head; his stubbly lips parted.

"I said is tha- WOJFVRJ!"

As one of his size 9 shoes took a step down, it was briskly swept off by the unsuspecting banana peel on the floor which no one had noticed. Damn, sneaky banana. With a tumble similar to that of 2D's earlier fall, the bassist came crashing down the rest of the stairs, landing with a _THUD _and later a _SMASH _from the rum bottle, right at the foot of a Miss Paula Cracker.

Her black laced boot danced out in front, lightly nudging Murdoc's broken hooter with a pointy toe. His response was a low, throaty growl, eyes squinted tightly shut with either total embarrassment (pfft, as if he was _ever _embarrassed, it was all about _pride_!) or utter rage. The fall had clearly knocked off the casual drunken act they'd become so accustomed to and been replaced by every day 'sober' Murdoc.

Quite aggressive.

"You bloody idiot, this is all your fault!" exclaimed the bassist as his clawed hands gripped tighter around the singer's neck, shaking him back and forth more and more violently. "How _dare _you bring that... that SLAG here! Ugh!" He dropped the dullard to the floor, 2D shaking with panic, gripping his achy throat and gasping desperately for air.

"YOU!" he pointed, charging over to the former band member, whose fists were clenched by her side. "You. _You, _YOU, _YOU_!"

"Me!" she giggled, raising a hand like a present school girl. Noodle smirked from across the hall, leaned against the warm radiator.

Murdoc snarled. "I want you out of here. Here me? OUT. This is _my _band and _you're _not welcome any more, girlie!"

"I'm not here for your sodding band! Stu-Pot and I-"

"_Stew pot? _You mean faceache, yeah?"

"Oh, beg pardon. 'Two dee' and I were just going to catch up."

"And by catch up, you mean shag."

2D stood all of a sudden. "Tha' is _not _what I 'ad planned!" he objected.

"Yeah awright, twat," he gave the infamous snicker, his voice became almost a whisper, a very frightening one as he smirked a grimacing smile into Paula's eyes. "That's all you were ever really good for, innit, Paul?"

The ex-guitarist looked away slightly, still attempting to take the dominant roll, though she had nothing to say to him. His very presence made her sick. With a clap of his hands and a turn on the heel, Murdoc's mood changed happily all of a sudden.

"Welp! My work here is done."

A surprise burst of confidence shot through the keyboardist, as it did on several occasions. "Wot? Making people feel lite shit?"

"Well, yes of course, dullard, what else would I be _brrrrilliant _at? Excluding my debonair looks, my bass slaying skills and the magical ability to understand a word you say. Heh, even that's a jolly hard one for little ol' me." The Satanist growled, revealing yellow, sharp teeth. He kicked the broken bottle pieces, bid a "Night night, kiddies!" then off he went back to bed. It wasn't unusual for Murdoc's mood sings. In fact, it was what was to be expected from him. Noodle shook her head, then scampered upstairs to bed herself.

2D, naturally a compassionate guy by nature, instantly made his way over to a broken smile.

"You awright?" he asked, concern staining his wobbly voice.

Paula looked up, blinking slowly. "Yeah... I'm used to it."


End file.
